Flicker 》Harry Styles x Kennedy Walsh {COMPLETED}

10: Blue Speech Bubbles

I rub my hands over my face and groan in frustration. What the ever flying fųck is wrong up here? Had I really been considering the idea that Harry is exactly how the media says he is? I've seen multiple proofs of how genuinely good he is as a person, why had I been entertaining that train of thought just now?

He doesn't objectify women, he's extremely polite and courteous even when he's tired and irritated (which is something I admit I could never be), and he actually loves and treasures his friends. He didn't deserve where my thoughts were leading me.

I scream into my pillow and Salem notices, cuddling up to me. I take her into my arms and snuggle with her. At least she isn't a pain to be with.

Right at that moment, Brandon knocks on my already open door before popping his head in. My irritation resurfaces.

"What?"

At least he had the decency to look sheepish. He steps in and rubs his nape. "I realized how wrong it was for me to say the things I said. I just wanted to apologize."

"So apologize."

He blinks for a second. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. Sometimes my mouth speaks before my brain processes my thoughts. I'm an idiot."

"You have the brain of a frog," I mutter, looking away and picking up my Kindle.

"And you remind me everyday of it." And just like that, I feel my anger wither away. Unlike most guys, Brandon does actually apologize (most times) when he realizes he'd been in the wrong, which is why I can honestly say that he's been the only decent guy I've met. Sure, he has his lapses, but he actually learns from it. Most of whom I've met make me glad to actually be single.

I look back at him and smirk. "Who else would?"

"Nobody, probably," he grins and I shrug. Knowing his pattern, I wait for him to try to make up for his mistake by offering to drive for me, or go get something with me, or even buying me food and/or makeup. "I've ordered pizza by the way," he says, already halfway out of my room, "I'll text you when it's here."

Bingo.

"Yeah, yeah," I wave him away.

"And you're beautiful, Kennedy, don't let my stupid ass tell you otherwise," he says under his breath.

"And just like that, you've ruined your groveling and made it awkward at the same time. Congratufuckinglations."

I hear his chuckle and footsteps fading. I laugh too when I'm sure he's out of earshot.

Right as I pick my Kindle up, my phone pings from a notification. I steel my heart and pick it up from the bed.

Direct message from Harry Styles

Fųck. I press my lips together to hold in a squeal. When I feel like I can't, I dive into the bed head-first and scream, my legs flailing. I pound my fist on the bed and scream again.

"Okay okay okay okay okay," I mutter with the biggest smile on my face. "Play it cool. Don't be creepy. Don't be creepy."

My tap on the notification brings me to our Twitter conversation. I read it from the beginning.

Hi Kennedy, just checking if you're still kicking after the show. My sincere apologies, x H

I had been until you messaged. You're invited—wake is at Maryland.

I really hope you're joking. If in case you're not, send me directions then?

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.